


Tell the world about me (us)

by Skrigget



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, Death, Family Feels, I made myself sad, I'm Sorry, Pack Feels, Sad, Season 3, Season 3 A, What is this?, my hand slipped i swear, season 3 b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 03:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2136051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skrigget/pseuds/Skrigget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles never really thought he would make it out of his teenage years alive, always had this vague idea that one day, well before his time, he would, well, die. </p><p>He just never imagined it to be like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell the world about me (us)

For some odd reason Stiles never really thought he’d make it to his twenties. It wasn’t something he thought about a lot and it wasn’t like it worried him or anything he just happened to have a feeling that something would inevitable, well, kill him. And rational speaking it might have been a rather logical set of thoughts since Stiles was used to being beaten and hunted and generally being too close to death.

 

He mentioned it to Scott when they were making their way to the woods one evening. They’d had some sort of conversation going – Stiles can’t for the love of god remember about what – and somehow had landed on the itchy topic of death and Stiles had wormed it into the conversationally ungracefully that he didn’t think he’d grow old.

 

Scott had stopped walking and had looked at him with his dark brown eyes wide open and a purified look of horror on his face. Stiles stopped abruptly to look at his friend concerned and somewhat vary.

 

,,What’s wrong?” he’d asked slowly like he was expecting Scott to wolf out any second or something.

 

,,Why would you say that?” Scott asked seriously, still looking utterly terrified.

 

,,Say what – oh! Oh, that.” Stiles shook his head dismissively and made some wild hand gesture before he resumed his walking. ,,You know me,” he called over his shoulder. ,,I’m just, you know, don’t listen to everything I say dude. Only about ninety percent of what comes out of this mouth is meant for your hearing, let alone for you to actually take serious, dude, relax.” He stopped his rambling when Scott finally shrugged and jogged up to him.

 

They never spoke of it again though Scott looked at him doubtfully for weeks.

 

He never told anyone else. It wasn’t like it was important and to be honest it didn’t worry him. It was just a feeling he had. Whenever someone wanted to talk to him about the future and what else he would just, you know, feel like it was unimportant. Like his changes for actually making it out alive of his teenage years were low.

 

Stiles never really thought he would make it, always had this vague idea that one day he would, well, die. He just never imagined it to be like this, never imagined it to happen because of a fucking car crash.

 

Ever since werewolves and banshees and hunters and other stupid shit became Stiles’ reality he just assumed that when he died it would be because of something supernatural. He’d be bitten by something or shot in the head or something equally terrifying. He also liked to imagine he’d die a rather heroic way. That he would perhaps sacrifice himself or something like that, that his death would have some sort of meaning.

 

It didn’t.

 

That was the worst part.

 

It was, like most deaths, totally unnecessary.

 

He died in his beloved car, blood spilling from a wound in his head and down into his eyes, face against the cold window and the sound of thunder in his ears. He died fast and with a worried heart. His death wasn’t important at the time. It simple just “was’’.

 

And nothing happened once his heart stopped beating; no one shouted his name in panic or ran to his side and held his body while begging him to come back. He didn’t get a slow death where he got to watch his friends and family and hold his father’s hand. He got nothing.

 

They didn’t even find him until much later when Isaac and Scott and Allison had saved his father, Melissa and Chris Argent. It wasn’t until then that they really started to worry about him, his father asking questions in a high pitched voice on the verge of breaking.

 

And not even then did they have time to really look for him. There were things to do, enemies to defeat and a storm going on. Scott assured the sheriff that Stiles had to be safe somewhere, probably just ran out of gas or something idiotic.

 

They didn’t search for him until the next day when they realized that he wasn’t coming home. They didn’t search for him until the storm was gone and Jennifer was dead. And then they found his jeep and the werewolves smelled his blood.

 

They ran to the car and ripped the door off, looked inside and found his body so very painfully still. He didn’t look troubled but he didn’t look very comfortable either. Scott stared at him for a long time without saying anything while Isaac shouted for help and Derek called for an ambulance well aware it was far too late.

 

They pulled his body gently out of the car and placed him on the ground. Scott fell to his knees next to him while Isaac and Derek watched him with watery eyes.

 

No one said anything.

 

Because there was nothing to say.

 

And Stiles would have found it goddamn unfair that this was how it ended. After everything he’d survived, after all he’d gone through this was how it would finally go down.

 

Telling the sheriff was the hardest part. Scott couldn’t do and neither could Isaac so Derek had to walk up to the man and tell him that his son wasn’t okay, that the paramedics wouldn’t be able to do anything, that they’d arrived too late to help him.

 

The sheriff didn’t cry, just looked over Derek’s shoulders to where his son laid. He made this horrible grimace, features grim with sadness and then he turned around and walked away.

 

At some point they feared he’d drown himself in the bottles, literally. It was Melissa, in the end, who pulled the man together. Scott didn’t know how she did it; he could hear her crying when she thought he was asleep. Scott didn’t sleep much these days, though.

 

They held the funeral on a sunny Saturday afternoon and it was horrible. They put him down next to his mother.

 

“Przemyslaw “Stiles” Stilinski 1996-2013. Good night, dear heart, good night, good night.”

 

They’d thought about writing something that would perhaps have a double meaning, something that would indicate what a great difference the boy had done in the supernatural world as well as the normal one, but they just couldn’t in the end.

 

His father chose the words.

 

Later he told them that they were part of what Mark Twain had engraved on his daughter’s headstone. The words were an alteration from the daughter’s favorite poem.

 

Lydia later found the entire poem and wrote her favorite part down on a piece of paper and hid in under a big rock next to headstone. Scott accidently found it several months later and read the words with tears in his eyes:

 

“If that ancient ethic view

Of Pythagoras be true,

Your light soul is surely now

In that bird upon the bough”

 

When a black crow landed on a nearby tree and started making a hideous sound that startled Scott terribly the werewolf couldn’t help but laugh. Not loud and wild like Stiles had done, but quiet and thoughtful, like the laughter wasn’t meant for anyone in this world.

 

Yes, Stiles would have thought his dead unfair with him always in constant danger of dying and yet somehow always surviving.

 

Stiles died in vain because sadly a lot of people do. Being best friends with a werewolf doesn’t give you a safe pas through that.

 

It did, though, save him from a lot of terrible things that occurred after his dead.

 

Allison was possessed.

 

Allison died.

 

In that order.

 

“If you must leave,

Leave as though fire burns under your feet

If you must speak,

Speak every word as though it were unique

If you must die, sweetheart

Die knowing your life was my life's best part

And if you must die,

Remember your life”

 

That was the song they sang to her, the song she would alays hum when she remembered her mother.

 

,,This isn’t… fair,” Scott said and placed the rose on the girls grave. ,,You weren’t – you two weren’t – no one was supposed to…”

 

He got up before he started crying. He walked over to Stiles grave and saw the crow sitting on the headstone with a somewhat proud posture. Scott snorted to himself but gave the bird a smirk nevertheless. He sighed and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.

 

He placed it gentle under one of the rock.

 

It was a thing they did.

 

,,Lydia thought this one reminded her of you,” Scott explained to the black headstone. He opened his mouth to say something more but bit his lip and walked away instead.

 

On the paper it said:

“That’s part of what I like about the book in some ways. It portrays death truthfully. You die in the middle of your life, in the middle of a sentence”


End file.
